


Steep

by blackcoffeeandteardrops



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s11e03 Plus One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandteardrops/pseuds/blackcoffeeandteardrops
Summary: After the events of Plus One, Mulder and Scully take a moment to pause and reflect.





	Steep

As soon as Scully entered the house she trudged over to the couch, sitting on the arm as she reached down to pull off her shoes. She let them fall to the floor with a subtle thud and closed her eyes, rolling her neck from one side to the other. While she’d managed to catch some sleep on the drive back, a few days spent fighting not just Evil and Little Judy but her own double had left her feeling exhausted. That, coupled with the conversations she and Mulder had with nothing but a thin hotel sheet to cover them, had left her eager to get home and return to some semblance of normal.

“Everything okay, Scully?” Mulder asked, having collected their bags from the car before following her inside. He took in the way she sat, hunched against the back of the couch, and cocked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Go take a shower and get some sleep. I’ll take care of these,” he said, pointing to their luggage.

“I like the way you think,” she said, pushing herself off the sofa and reaching for the bag that contained her toiletries. “Leave the others by the laundry room. I can do that in the morning. I’ll just put these away. Good night.”

He moved to kiss her cheek, but she’d turned to go, leaving him hanging in her wake. Puzzled, he stared at the stairs until he heard the sound of the shower starting overhead. Doing as she asked, he left their bags by the laundry room before setting a kettle on to warm up water for some tea. She’d been quiet the entire drive home, and while he knew she’d slept part of the way, she’d barely responded to any of his attempts at conversation. Something was nagging at her, and while he had his suspicions, he knew better than to push her buttons until she was ready. Still, he thought the last few days had been good, and so her suddenly clamming up felt contradictory to the general vibe between them while they’d been working--or, well, not working, as it were, he thought as a smirk crossed his face. He heard the shower shut off just as the water finished boiling, and he placed a sachet of her favorite tea in a mug, pouring some of the water over it before heading upstairs to wait.

She’d been so focused on trying to take a shower and unwind from the trip, so ready to relax muscles sore from constant movement, that she’d brought nothing but the towel to dry off with into the bathroom. But when she emerged, spotting Mulder perched on the foot of the bed, looking pleased with whatever plan he’d concocted in his head, she nearly regretted that decision. “I’m tired, Mulder,” she said, hugging the towel tighter around her chest. She eyed him over her shoulder as she opened the dresser drawer, suddenly feeling underdressed as he was still fully clothed. “You can take a shower if you want, or not, but I fully intend on being asleep soon, so--”

“I made you tea,” he said, resting the steaming mug atop the dresser as evidence. “I come in peace, I promise.”

Scully eyed the mug, staring at it cryptically, as if it were a piece of a puzzle she couldn’t quite figure out. It was a gesture of kindness, something he’d done countless times before. She’d come home from a long shift at the hospital and he’d been waiting with a cup of chamomile, rubbing her shoulders as she talked about whatever cases she’d worked on that day. When he’d started slipping away from her, the tea happened less and less, as did the touching, irregardless of the reason. When she moved back in shortly after Maggie’s death, she’d been surprised to get up one morning and spot a box of it in the cupboard, knowing full well she’d taken it with her when she left. He’d remembered and had bought a box, even though she’d never asked. “Thank you,” she said quietly, not looking at him as she returned to the task of finding something to wear to bed.

“I know I asked this before, but are you okay?” he asked, pulling away a strand of still wet hair from her cheek. He waited, watching as she went through the motions, deciding to press further, and hoping he wouldn’t regret it. “Did I do something wrong? You’ve barely spoken since we left the hotel. Look, if this is about breaking company policy and consorting in the same hotel room, I for one would like to point out that it’s far from the first time, and--”

“It’s not that,” she interrupted, clutching the open drawer with her hands. There was a feeling bubbling beneath the surface, something lurking within that she couldn’t quite name. Leave it to Mulder to have recognized it anyhow, encouraging her in whatever way he could, just like he always had. She opened her mouth, ready to insist that he’d done nothing wrong, which was true, only to feel the warm weight of his hand press against the bare skin of her shoulder, urging her in the direction of the mirror. She stared at his reflection, eyes filled with something between excitement and fear, and she shook her head. “Mulder, we’ve been on the road all afternoon. It’s late, so whatever it is that you’re up to can wait, okay?”

He could’ve relented, could’ve let go and allowed her return to the task of getting ready for bed, but he decided to try a different tactic. “No, this’ll just take a minute. The other night, the things you said when you came to my room, it got me to thinking. You talked about getting older, about what’ll happen if we lose our jobs or if we retire--both of which seem improbable at this rate, although neither are entirely out of the realm of possibility,” he said, grasping both of her shoulders when she tried to turn around. “Look in the mirror, Scully--”

“Mulder, what is going on? Are you okay?” she said, though she didn’t resist his hold on her, relishing the way his thumbs rubbed small circles against her skin as he held her in place.

“I wanted to say something that night, but I didn’t. Partially because I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t screw things up, and partially because _somebody_ had wandering hands…” he said, watching as her cheeks blushed. He locked eyes with her through the mirror, wanting to be sure she understood. Throughout so much of their relationship, so much had gone unsaid or said when it was too late, they were both terrible at communication that way. But they were both trying to be better, and so he wanted to play his part. Tentatively, he reached for the spot on the towel where she’d secured it safely around her chest. “Scully, the other night you asked me about finding another woman, finding someone younger. We got distracted by other things, but it’s important to me that you understand why that’s just simply impossible.”

“Mulder,” she said, his name scarcely more than a whisper from her lips as she felt his breath tickling the shell of her ear. His knuckles grazed the swell of her breast and she gulped, shaking her head and reaching for his hand, helping to finish what he’d intended to do, pulling the last of the knot in the towel free. To say she felt exposed would be accurate, but there was a warmth and an air of certainty in his eyes that allowed her to feel comfortable enough to see where he was headed.

He’d known when making this decision that she was either going to kill him for it or kiss him, and as he trudged forward, he hoped it was the latter. “This woman, right here? You, Scully. _You_ are what I want.”

“Mulder,” she cried again, pulling her lip between her teeth. She watched as his calloused fingertips hovered over a scar on her abdomen, given to her by a gunshot so long ago, faded and simply part of the patchwork of her skin now. The way he was still so careful with it made her shiver.

“You know what I see when I look at you? I see a woman who has fought for everything that she has, a woman who is strong within the face of so many adversities,” he said, his fingers ghosting across her skin, quietly kissing the long healed wounds left by people who’d had no right to try hurting her the way they had. “I see someone who, when faced with the impossible, finds a way to make it possible,” he continued, grasping one of her hands, feeling grateful when she laced their fingers together. She’d let him get away with this so far, but he was afraid that at some point he’d cross an invisible line and she’d put her guard back up. “These hands, Scully, they’ve healed so many. And those who happened to meet your hands when they were no longer able to be healed? Well, they were given answers. Some of the time,” he said, shrugging with a smile, relieved at the one he saw on her face when he looked back at her reflection.

If she felt underdressed walking into the room with just a towel, she felt even more exposed with nothing but his own clothing separating them. In the past, it was something that might have made her feel vulnerable, open to being hurt, but she felt safer now, more certain of herself and voicing the things she wanted. She cocked her head to the side, taking a step back from the mirror and closer into his embrace as she spoke. “What else do you see?”

“Well, for starters, I see one lucky son of a bitch,” he replied, chuckling against her skin. “You’re so damn beautiful, Dana. I mean it,” he said, moving her hair just enough to place a kiss against the back of her neck, closing his eyes for a moment while he breathed her in. He cleared his throat, his hand moving to rest softly against her lower abdomen, allowing himself for the briefest of moments to remember the life that had once grown inside her. “And as for the other thing we talked about?”

“We’ll find him,” she replied, resting her hand atop his. “Or he’ll find us. And that’s enough.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had the conversation--variations of it had taken place over the years, including once after their island getaway when she’d locked herself in the bathroom to pee on a stick--but putting everything out in the open again just solidified that fact. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Mulder asked, feigning innocence until she turned at last to face him. Her fingers were making quick work of the buttons on his shirt and he laughed, slowly walking backwards towards the bed. “I thought you said you were tired, Scully?”

“I am,” she replied, undoing the last button on his shirt and slyly reaching for the buckle on his belt, looking up at him through her lashes. “But like you said the other night, I’ve still got some scoot in my boot, Mulder.”

Later, she was curled up against him and nearly asleep, eyelids heavy, when she felt him stirring. “Mmm,” she said, kissing his chest before propping herself up on her elbow and looking at him. “What is it?”

“S’nothin, Scully. Go to sleep,” Mulder replied, smiling sleepily as he shook his head.

She could’ve let it go, could’ve rested her head back against him or turned away and resumed her attempts at getting some semblance of rest, but she could all but see the gears still turning in his head, and she wanted to know why. “Hey,” she said, gathering the blanket close to her chest and pushing herself up to look at him better. “Talk to me, Mulder. What’s wrong?”

It was odd, he thought, how there was a calm he felt only with her next to him, that urged him to be honest. “I was thinking about before.”

“Before what?” she asked, trying not to laugh. Their lives were marked by so many moments that served as permanent bookmarks--Before and After--and so there was no telling what he was referring to without him delving deeper.

“Scully,” he started, faltering long enough to rustle the sheets and prop himself on the pillows as she had. In the darkness, his hand wandered across the comforter, stopping only when he felt hers, already open and waiting for him. “When you left, you broke my heart. Seeing you leave, knowing it was because of me. But in a way, as nonsensical as it may sound, it was one of the greatest things you could’ve done. You made the right choice.”

Scully drew in a shaky breath, unsure of where he was headed. She’d been back at home for months, and they’d talked about it some, when they weren’t sharing hotel rooms on the road. They were good, or so she thought. “The lease on the apartment hasn’t ended yet, Mulder, so if this is you saying you think I should renew--”

 “That is absolutely _not_ what I’m trying to say,” Mulder replied, gripping her hand tighter. The idea of sleeping in an empty bed and pretending he couldn’t still smell her was unthinkable. The nights spent sprawled out in front of the television, trying desperately to fall asleep came to mind, and he willed himself to remain calm because he knew it wasn’t his reality anymore. Scully was real and sitting right beside him, and she wanted to be. They were older yes, and with more battle wounds than either of them could account for, but they’d made it through, and he figured that had to count for something. “I guess I just wanted to thank you. It was the kick in the ass I needed to get better, to be better. And I am. Or I’m trying to be.”

“You are,” she said, leaning into him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m proud of you. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that.”

He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt her settle her head against his shoulder, and he laughed into her hair. “What is it about late nights and strange cases that make us open up like this? We never really talked like this before.”

“No, we didn’t,” she mused, but where in times past her voice might have been tinged with sadness or regret, it instead was filled with a sense of pride. They weren’t perfect, and maybe there was work still left to do, but they were better in spite or perhaps because of everything they’d faced. “I think it’s because we’re getting old.”

“Getting?” he asked, relieved that she’d opted for a more lighthearted response rather than waxing philosophical on the subject. They might be getting better at finding their common language and working together again, but the hour was still late and he knew they were both tired.

Scully burrowed back under the covers. It wasn’t until she felt his arm wrap around her waist, his palm settling against her lower back, that the thought occurred to her. “I never drank the tea, Mulder. But that was thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“No, you didn’t,” he replied, and as he glanced across the room he could just make out the mug still sitting atop the dresser. “But hey, if you want me to, I could go--”

“This bed, along with you, are nice and warm. So no, Mulder, I don’t want any tea. In fact,” she said, wiggling closer in hopes of making her point clear. “If you get up right now, I might be tempted to kill you. I can make it look like an accident.”

He chuckled, rubbing his hand up and then down her back, moving away just long enough to wrap the blankets more securely around them. “The truth is out now then, isn’t it? You’re using me to warm you up.”

“Hmm, maybe that’s true. Among other things,” she mused, her voice growing thick with sleep as she tilted her mouth up to meet his for a kiss. “Are you complaining?”

“No,” he replied, letting out a yelp when he felt one of her feet dart between his calves. “You weren’t kidding, Scully. Your feet are like ice.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling secure in the midst of the blankets and the pillows and him. In the past few days, she’d managed to talk her doppelganger out of existence and conquer thoughts of an uncertain future. If anything was at all certain, she knew now more than ever that they’d face whatever came next together. “Not anymore. Good night, Mulder” she said, lulled by the warmth she felt enveloping them. At long last, she fell asleep.


End file.
